


If I let you go, would you hold on?

by chaoticdean



Series: Suptober 2020 [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Communication, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Growth, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural), THEY'RE SO IN LOVE GODDAMIT, hunter husbands, soft idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdean/pseuds/chaoticdean
Summary: Suptober 2020, day 21: fear.Castiel gets hurt on a hunt trying to protect Dean, and Dean is tired of having to wake up everyday not knowing if they’ll both be alive the next morning or if one of them is going to sacrifice himself to save the other. Finally, he makes a choice that will set their future.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentionned)
Series: Suptober 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949341
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	If I let you go, would you hold on?

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Dean almost growls as he violently slams the door of their motel room shut, the sound almost rendered inaudible because of the storm and the pouring rain outside.

Castiel merely responds as he shuffles with difficulty until he can collapse face-first onto the bed with a groan, which does nothing to ease Dean’s rage. Both of them are covered in a mixture of blood, dirt, and soaking wet.

“Seriously, Cas, fucking enlighten me,” he curses as he struggles to get out of his waterlogged clothes.

“Will you _stop,_ ” Castiel says, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s pressed his face against.

Dean ends up throwing both his jacket and flannel on the table before he makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge, and watches as Castiel’s breathing returns to a more or less steady rhythm. It takes everything not to reach out, not to let his hand pat Castiel’s back, because he’s still _boiling._

“Where does it hurts?”

“ _Everywhere_.”

“Don’t be a goddamn baby, Cas,” the hunter scowls.

“That’s like asking you not to eat a cheeseburger when it’s right in front of you,” Cas snaps back, his voice strained, visibly in pain.

“Well, that’s what you get for thinking throwing yourself in-between a fucking werewolf and me was the neatest fucking _brainwave,_ ” Dean scoffs, “let me see your face.”

“No.”

“Come on, babe…”

Cas finally turns to sit cross-legged on the bed, and Dean’s rage immediately sinks when he finally gets a good look at his boyfriend’s face. The ex-angel’s cheeks are bruised, there’s a small strain of blood smeared on the right side of his face, seemingly coming from a cut into his brow ridge. His lower lip is split as well, and there are more cuts going down his neck, bruises…

Dean can’t help but reach out, letting one of his hand cups the angel’s cheek, his heart sinking even deeper when Cas closes his eyes at the touch. He brushes his thumb along the split lower lips, mentally cursing himself when Castiel hisses at the touch on the cut.

“Cas…” Dean sighs, all traces of rage gone, “why did you have to do that?”

At this point, it’s more of a rhetorical than a real question. Dean knows why, and knows damn well he would’ve done the same thing were the situation reversed. But fear has always been a catalyst for Dean, and rage his answer. 

“What did you want me to do? It would’ve ripped you apart if I hadn’t distracted it,” Castiel answers, eyes fluttering open to stare at him.

“I had —“

“If you say “I had time”, I will make you sleep on the couch for a month, Dean,” Cas interrupts right away, managing to sound ominous enough for Dean to shut up, “you didn’t, and you know it.”

“Alright, okay, point made, smartass,” Dean conceals, brushing his thumb along Castiel’s cheekbone before he finally let go, letting his fingers rest on Cas’ lap, “I get it, angel, I do.”

“But?”

“But you’re not an angel anymore,” Dean says and he hates the little glimpse of pain he sees dancing around his blue irises before it’s gone in an instant, “and I know it’s tough, and I’m the last person that should say this to you because I would do the same kind of stupid shit if the situation were to be reversed —“

“Yes, you would,” Cas interrupts Dean’s speech with an outstanding roll of his eyes, so much so that Dean’s afraid it might have been heard all over Chicago.

“— but you can’t fucking charge in and expect things to be okay anymore. You’re human, which means you bleed, and you hurt, and you _die._ ”

Silence falls upon the room as they stare at each other, and Dean suddenly feels like he can’t breathe anymore. It’s like the air is too heavy, too dense for his lungs to function normally.

“I can’t, I won’t —“ he stammers before he closes his eyes, unable to continue.

“Hey,” Castiel’s hand is on his arm in an instant, a welcomed physical reminder that he’s _okay_ , he’s _alive_ ,“breath, Dean. I’m here. Breathe. I’m fine, we’re both fine.”

“You’re not fine, look at you!” Dean almost yells, his sense overwhelmed by the panic that’s been rising from his stomach, his eyes opening again to stare at Cas, “you could’ve died in there, just because we keep fucking sacrificing ourselves in the name of the other, and I’m _tired_ Cas.”

It’s then that he realizes he’s been crying, then that he finds out he can’t take it anymore; being scared of who’s going to make a stupid thing all in an attempt to save the other isfucking _exhausting_.

Cas moves his hand to cup his cheek, brushing his thumb along the edge of his cheekbone, and Dean can’t help but push into his hand, relishing the feel of Cas’ skin against his own.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he says calmly, “I’m not going to die, Dean.”

“Don’t say that. You _are_ if you keep running into danger because of me.”

“What do you want us to do then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to quit?”

Dean instantly raises his eyes to lock in with Castiel’s, and finds only understanding and empathy in the baby blues staring right back at him.

God damn, how is it even possible to love someone with so much force, so much fire, yet it still feels like the purest thing in the world?

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just —“

“It’s okay if you need time, honey.”

“I just can’t wake up every morning and the first thing that crosses my mind is “are we both gonna make it back to bed tonight, or is one of us going to sacrifice in the name of love?”, it’s driving me insane.”

“Do you want _us_ to stop?” Cas deadpans.

“What?”

Dean’s stunned by the question. He knows they’re far from being a stellar couple, knows that they still have some deep shit to figure out; but they’re _trying_ , they’re getting there. And finally being with Castiel is the equivalent of walking on the stupid moon attached to a freaking rainbow. It feels like being thrown into the sun and relishing the warmth and comfort. It’s mad and it’s beautiful all the same.

It’s everything Dean has ever wanted, although it took time for him to realize. He doesn’t think there’s anything better in the _world_ than waking up next to a sleepy, grumpy Cas; and there’s definitely nothing better than getting to kiss those stupid lips whenever he wants.

So he kisses those stupid lips. And maybe it’s an attempt at shutting him up, to try and shake some sense into him, or maybe it’s just because he _can_ do that now; because Cas is here and Cas is _his;_ because he’s never going to let that go, the mere thought of losing Castiel in any kind of way making him want to tear his own heart out.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think for once second that I would ever want to let you go,” he whispers once they part, both panting against each other’s mouth.

“I don’t want to, but I’d understand if that made it easier for you.”

“Cas, I would rather quit this job than even think about losing you!”

It tumbles out of his mouth before something in his mind even clicks, but once it has, he realizes it’s been there all along. It’s been there for years, waiting to be triggered, and now he can see it all: the little house they would buy and make a home together, the job they could take that wouldn’t require for them to die for each other — another life.

He’s always assumed that he’d never want it, that he’d never have so much of _a shot_ at it; and yet here he is, in a skeevy motel room outside of Chicago with an ex-angel pressed up against him and a realization that weighs a ton.

“Let’s quit,” he deadpans, raising his eyes to look at Cas, “you’re right, let’s just… Let’s quit.”

“You’re sure?” Cas asks, tying his hands on Dean’s neck, fingers brushing at the fine hair on his nape, looking at him like he’s weighing every line on Dean’s face.

“I don’t… We don’t _need_ to do this anymore, and I don’t… Cas, my greatest fear in life is losing you.”

It seems to take him by surprise, and Dean briefly wonders why it would. It’s been so clear for years, as a testament to their love even before Dean realized how deep he felt for him.

“It used to be losing Sam before you came along, but Sam doesn’t need me anymore. He’s got Eileen and a future, and we all got Jack, and… Let’s fucking quit, angel. Let’s find a beach house in California, or a cottage in Vermont, I don’t care, I don’t give a shit, I just… Let’s just _be_ , without ever thinking about dying for each other ever again.”

“What about the hunts?”

“There’s plenty of hunters to do our jobs,” Dean slides his hand around Cas’ waist, bringing him onto his lap and softly biting kisses under his jaw, “besides, we’re old.”

Cas laughs then, carding a hand through Dean’s hair tenderly, looking at him like he'd hung the moon, and Dean realizes how lucky they are to still be here, in that moment, together.

And if the future is in California, on a little white house above the shore; if the future is made of fresh morning coffee and gardening and making out in a home they’ve made together… Well, by Winchester’s standards, that’s pretty much as good as it gets.

**Author's Note:**

> _  
> **rebloggable on[Tumblr](https://chaoticdean.tumblr.com/post/632623333274533888/if-i-let-you-go-would-you-hold-on)**  
>  _


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